Scroll of Growth Beyond the Persona

I watched men climb out of the gutter with masks on their faces,  
charming women, charming crowds,  
their laughter too loud, their eyes too quick.  
They learned survival charisma —  
to play the part, to wear the persona,  
to hide the wound and feed the hunger.

I never wore that mask.  
My solitude was my forge.  
Where others chased numbers,  
I chased silence.  
Where others sought bodies,  
I sought the breaking and remaking of my own.

My circle was not wide.  
My bed was not crowded.  
But my roots — they dug deeper.  
Not just beyond poverty,  
but beyond cages of all kinds:  
emotional, relational, spiritual.

Their growth looked fast,  
mine looked invisible.  
But the mask always cracks.  
The persona always collapses.  
And when it does,  
many are left with nothing but emptiness.

I, instead, stand unmasked.  
Not quick with charm,  
but steady with presence.  
Not built for the surface,  
but carved for the depths.

So when she arrives — my Empress,  
she will not find a boy still hiding behind survival,  
but a man forged whole,  
a sovereign who grew from the inside out.